


An Anarchist's Love Story

by silasfinch



Category: Years and Years (TV)
Genre: Activism, Dystopia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, Gen, Healing, One Shot Collection, POV First Person, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silasfinch/pseuds/silasfinch
Summary: Edith Lyons is a superstar humanitarian activist documenting the end of the world.She is living in the end of days with a failing body but strong idealism.Fran Baxter is a storyteller and fighting to preserve culture through song.It's a bad time to fall in love, it happens anyway.
Relationships: Fran Baxter/Edith Lyons, Viktor Goraya/Daniel Lyons
Kudos: 5





	An Anarchist's Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sure how many people watched this amazing series (Years and Years) but I couldn't resist writing this collection.  
> There will be plenty of the wonderful Lyons Family too.  
> I'm am dyslexic so please be gentle with comments - though I imagine this fandom will always be small :-)

_"Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage."_

**Maya Angelou**

"Do you want to hear a foolish story?"

The question is largely rhetorical. I may not be able to claim much certainty sitting in Fran's living room, surrounded by bright colours and instruments, but I know this woman. Fran Baxter may be seething with rage and hurt about my ridiculous inability to communicate, but she will never turn down the chance to hear a story. In one way our life work is the same, wanting to tell narratives about the end of the world and the catastrophic losses and small glimmers of hope. Whereas I wish the grandeur of forcing the world's attention on the wilful destruction, my sometimes lover wants to connect with their souls. 

The words and the weaving of an artist seem far more terrifying to me if there is any hope for Fran being in my life as more than an agent of revolution and decent than I need to find a way to be brave. Even now after our argument outside the resettlement station, she is dipping into her precious supplies of real tea to do me a hot brew. Fran pauses in handing me a cup before nodding silently. The weeks of avoiding her between frantic lovemaking or mercy missions have taken their toll. She doesn't trust me not to hurt her again is done pretending my casual disregard doesn't hurt. The nightmare of that foolish refugee crossing scars more than the Lyons Family. 

"I think I fell in love with you the second we met at Dan's party and you asked me about the stories in between the books and the slots on prime time tv." 

My words manage to shock Fran, but she hides that emotional well. The lead singer in a band and storyteller who moonlights for change cannot afford an open face, more than that she is a performer by nature and training and her whole job is to elicit emotions from and about other people. Somehow her ongoing silence has more impact on me than anything she could say or do at that moment. 

"See the thing is since Hong Sha Dao, and the other climate protests people are somewhat in awe of who they perceive me to be, the arrests, the books, the guerrilla reporting. Everybody expects me to have wild stories and sleight of hand trick to get of any situation. Somehow instead of being disappointed by a middle-aged, underweight lost soul with zero social skills and fewer daily life skills, you want more." I rush the words trying not to fidget nervously. 

"Don't pretend you don't blame me for Daniel or see him in the water every time you look at me. Edith, for somebody who makes a living exposing the truth you shouldn't cause a habit out of lying to yourself or me." Fran says sharply grasping the teacup as if it’s a life preserver in that sea. 

"Oh Darling, that's not true. I have done a rubbish job of dealing with my grief, even when people could afford things like consoling. I adored my brother to distraction, but he was an idealistic fool who was on borrowed time for months. I was the one that dragged you into the Lyons mess repeatedly without a word of thanks." I reply before reaching out to clasp her hand. 

"I would do everything again in a heartbeat if it meant helping you and the cause. Maybe that's why Danny and I got on so well, both the romantic fools." Fran musters up a smile and squeezes our hands gently with affection and reverence. 

Fran Baxter has every right to continue being mad at me or cut her losses entirely, but at the same time, a sense of true companionship is rare to find when the world is dying. It's why Dan's marriage fell apart, I think. If she sees value in me and our time together that tiny flame of hope is worth holding on to in the darkness. 

***

"Rosie is so wrong about me." 

Somehow once I start talking to Fran about my feelings, it becomes difficult to stop. We don't end up having frantic and imaginative sex like I thought we would, Fran takes me to bed, and we end up cuddling most of the night in modest PJs. Sometimes being in a stable sleeping surface is still something of a novelty. Nothing will beat the comfort of listening to Fran's strong heartbeat in the night even if the interactions are progressing slowly. 

"I suspect there are plenty of people who get things wrong about the crusading Edith Lyons on account of not getting the opportunity to know you beyond inconsistent phone calls from exotic lands. Fran points out with more humour that hurt.

"Fair enough. Rosie though builds me up as some cross between Lawrence of Arabia and Indiana Jones with a love affair in every port and or natural disaster. The truth is so much more mundane; we were living on nothing but rations, limited water and 20 or so outfits between us. With a few exceptions, our libidos were the last thing on our minds."

"There were many reasons I fell in love with you, Edith Lyons but you smooth charm and wit did not make a list if that's what you are worried about, love." Fran doesn't bother to hide her amusement. 

"I'm trying to say something serious here!" I protest between bouts of laughter. 

Fran turns and gathers me against her, our limbs tangling together in a perfect chaotic mess. Whereas my body is slowly weakening and losing strength, Fran remains steady and strong. We are the ideal complement to each other. In my more sentimental moments, I wonder if Danny was doing some matchmaking that day. He was so deliriously happy with Viktor that he wanted everybody around him to feel the same happiness, even his wayward sister. 

"I am useless at relationships both with family and any potential romantic relationships. There was always another injustice or melting icecap that needed documenting. I've liked people of people along the way and slept with more than a few but none that I would remember past the next disaster—Bethany with all her strange ideas about being a different type of being, maybe onto something. My status quo isn't working for me anymore. I want to be different and be the type of person that can make you smile through the worst times." I stumble over the worst in earnestness. 

"Well work on being less useless, you have the time now, Edith Lyons and for the record, even Vivian Rook's secret spy network, you make me smile most days anyway."

I manage a wane chuckle at the joke even though Vivian Rook is becoming more of a threat each day. My family's sense of security is shifting like sand in the tide, even the storms that batter the British coast now. 

***

"I have a foolish story for you too." 

The day after our emotion talk is what passes for quiet in this times Vivian Rook's politics and The Disappeared. I am in the office at one of our London charities, going over the books and looking into the next funding rounds. In theory, Fran is working on a new volume of poetry while keeping me company, but mainly we are grinning at each other like mad idiots. Fortunately, we are on the only people on deck today. So nobody is there to witness a 'revolution’s hero' acting like a mush ball.

"When things were looking dicey on that overcrowded dingy with too many people I kept having on recurring thought, in between the terror and despair. I kept thinking it was such a shame to die here without asking Edith Lyons on a real date and ask her to make a go of things in the quiet times between emergencies.

All the Lyons children have fair skin, and mine is getting more sallow with radiation and sickness. I feel my face flush with a tell-tale blush fitter for one of my nieces with a crush. My career and mission depend on finding the right thing to say at any given time, but Fran's simple declaration has me at a loss for a single noun or adjective. Thankfully my prospective date doesn't seem to want verbal confirmation. Instead, she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. 

"Oh, that's lovely if the slightly tragic thing to say. I'm not sure I should be the type of person to inspire such passions. Just so you know I may be all kinds of stubborn and prideful, but I wouldn't say no to an invitation should you see fit to ask. It's not like my passport does me any good anymore. Settling down at the end of the world with you sounds ideal if you will have me. 

I barely manage to finish the reports. Fran is highly pleased with my stumbling words and demonstrates her pleasure in several physical ways. My body is dying, and it becomes harder to breathe or shake a persistent cough each night. My hands and feet are numb and tingle painfully. It’s a revelation to know that in such a situation that Fran can still bring my carnal joy and then I can do the same. She laughs while tying a scarf to hide the evidence of rather enthusiastic bite marks. I ache to claim the tender spots again. 

"Thank you for inspiring whole pages of poetry Miss Lyons. I will see you tonight." Fran's voice cracks nervously in an appealing way. 

We grin at each other like idiots before she heads out down the stairs, I watch her go from the window. My problems are still impossibly heavy, and every breath is starting to hurt, but this moment still feels wonderful. I barely resist the urge to open a Family Link to announce the news. Chances are high I am on multiple Black Lists, so there is no need to be that foolish. 

***

"Why are you acting like this? Fran thinks the world of you. Mum and I could see that at the garden party. We called it long before you got the guts to ask her out." 

My youngest niece seems unbelievably smug about her observation. It's still hard to wrap my mind around this bright young woman being the same child who used to pester me for stories. Of course, people have the right to grow up when I am off saving the world and speaking truth to increasingly hostile powers. There is joy in knowing that the next generation of Lyons is trying to do better, and our father's reckless decisions do not haunt them too badly. Hopefully, they will have a better world to tell their children about where democracy isn't a quaint idea. 

Thankfully Ruby is perfectly willing to go through all my meagre clothes and look for something that will be appropriate for my date. My sense of fashion was rusty before the girls were even born, much less the rules for this latest generation. Fran is effortless amazing within both street and performance outfits. Besides which most of my clothing no longer fits anymore and I'm perpetually freezing, so I need multiple layers. The family suspects the radiation is wreaking havoc with my body, but they let me get away with biting humour and pulling stunts at Dad's funeral. 

"I want this to go well, we haven't had the best luck, mainly down to me being an idiot. I want to make an effort, you know?" I explain feeling strangely on display. 

"Are you aiming to cheat on her for months with the nearest available white woman and pretend to be the victim in that situation?" Ruby's words are caustic in the blandness. 

"Er no, one relationship is enough for me to aim for right now or any time. Fran is stunning and amazing worth far more than any fling. Do you want to talk about..."

"Then starting from that position puts you ahead of my father. Keep reminding yourself of how lucky you are, and you can't go too wrong. Fran already reads all your speeches and stuff, even the boring ones about financial corruption. We didn't need to try on 27 different combinations, Aunt Edith." Ruby says with more poise and grace than I could ever hope to achieve. 

There is nothing I can say to such a declaration. Rosie and I feel helpless watching Stephen's path to self-destruction. We all grieve Danny profoundly, but his emotion seems to twist into something darker. There can be no other explanation for leaving a woman such as Celeste and their daughters. Fortunately, even Nan is willing to see where her loyalty should lie in this particular mess.

I impulsively reach out and hug my niece. It is wonderful to me home, however long my respite from symptoms lasts. Ruby is initially stiff, but she melts against me and laughs with all the indulgence of a too wise teenager in an eccentric family of misfits and accidental heroes. It's a toss-up as to who is receiving more comfort from the experience her or me. One this is for sure, I am never going to take the bonds of the family for granted. They are the people holding me battered body together. 

"Now go and get dressed. Those years of saving the world have done nothing for your skin or hair. I'll need to spend awhile doing your makeup." Ruby pushes her away gently. 

***

"I am sorry about this; you don't have to resign your night to spend it with my hooligan nephews." 

"This night has been too wonderful to let a little thing like family drama stand in our way. Who cares if we have a few extra companions at the end" Fran says impulsively reaching out to grasp my hand. 

I couldn't agree more or find the words to express how much our date meant to me. There was nothing particularly special or fancy. Fran cooked us a meal at her place, complete with candles and soft music. For once we didn't need to battle blackouts and police serins. Fran's oven did an admirable job of serving us a feast. Somehow Fran knows that my appetite is a fickle thing nowadays, and the food is a perfect blend of variety, light and decadent. 

We fill the room with conversation and laughter, sharing everything from childhood memories to our opinions on the Transhuman Movement. Things were getting interesting when Rosie calls for help with her two sick boys who are not cooperating. Fran doesn't say a word as she rearranges her shirt and ties her dreads back into braids. There is no question of her coming with me. We are somehow working as a unit now. Besides if anybody can spin stories for restless children than its Fran who is something of a whisperer for people regardless of age. . It's why her licence keeps getting renewed even after the boat tragedy. Rosie will boast in an annoyingly charming way, but it will almost be worth it. 

"Well, I can see your happy 'Friendzone' is alive and well. Are we allowed to welcome Fran probably or are still living in denial bigger than Vivian Rook's ego?" Rosie shoots me an arch look as she opens the door. 

"Oh hush, you were right. I was wrong." I reach down and give my sister a quick hug, willing to put up with any teasing. 

Both Fran and Rosie and naturally friendly people with more charm than the rest of the Lyons put together. They soon fall into an easy conversation about the boys and Rosie's endless quest to try and get a licence for the food truck. It strikes me that I was missing out on allot by cutting myself off from any form of personal relationships. It's nice to bring somebody home to the family even if we are facing the end of the world together. 

Soon we are set to work soothing Lee and Lincoln as they struggle to hold down even a simple broth and shiver under high fevers. Rosie can't easily afford medical care under the new version of NHS. I have enough experiences with illnesses in the field to be fairly certain this isn't anything life-threatening. For somebody absent most of their lives somehow, I have become central to the fabric of this little family. Lincoln curls up at my side as I ran a hand over his two stubborn plaits that look most fetching on my youngest nephew. Rosie heads out to pick up Jonjo from working another extra shift. Perhaps I was wrong about that one. 

"One more, Fran." Lee begs sleepily.

Somehow, my new lover, has the taciturn Lee entranced with a story about stories of the old days. In the fast-paced world, that disaster creates this generation has little awareness of anything before the year 2000. Yet I can see the wonder that Fran spins with none of the technology and interactive devices Bethany craves so much. I find myself relaxing in the sound of her deep resonating. 

"However many days, months or years I have left they will be far better for having you in them." I manage to force the words around the tightness in my throat. 

"It's about time you realised that fact, Lyons. Now hush and let me finish the story." Fran offers me a brilliant smile. 

I don't have the bravery yet to tell Fran exactly how few my days might be. There weren't that many people foolish enough to go directly into the path of the Hong Sha Dao Nuclear Disaster. It's not like the doctors can give me a timetable for the slow poisoning. I feel a brave triumph at the idea that I might have a companion no matter how long or short this life will be. 


End file.
